


still i'm thinking about you only

by goodnightpuckbunny



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:33:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightpuckbunny/pseuds/goodnightpuckbunny
Summary: Petey had asked him for help, and Brock was a good friend.
Relationships: Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 178





	still i'm thinking about you only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babyflow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyflow/gifts).



> This takes place during the 2020 Playoffs in the quarantine bubble, which at the time of writing this has only existed for one day. Future apologies for any inaccuracies, but I refuse to believe players are just gonna stay in their own rooms the whole time when there's great buddy-fucking to be had. 
> 
> Written for my good friend, champion of Boesersson, who deserves nice things.
> 
> Title from "Super Trouper" by ABBA. :)

The air conditioner was blasting in the hotel room and Brock shivered in the chill, but Petey’s skin was burning against his. Petey was laying on top of him, naked skin pressing against his body all the way down. At this point, they were both a little sticky with sweat and probably some slick. Every time Brock breathed in he felt Petey’s weight against his chest, and Petey’s scent filled his lungs, and Brock dick swelled. Petey usually smelled like either the stench of soaked hockey gear or the slight soapiness of his unscented shampoo, but right now he smelled like the rising bread and churned earth of a summertime heat. Petey had asked him for help, and Brock was a good friend. 

Petey kissed like he did anything—with an edge of competitiveness. Brock could happily drown in it: Petey’s lips sliding against his, and not giving him much time to breathe.

For the first time, Brock allowed himself to touch as much as he wanted, skimming his hands down Petey’s arms to his bony elbows, and back up across shoulders, surely broader now than they had been even a few months ago. He touched the firm peaks of Petey’s nipples, and the soft skin on the nearly flat curve of his stomach, and his sharp hip bones. He wasn’t thinking anything beyond _wow_ , discovering parts of his friend that he hadn’t really given himself permission to think about until about half an hour ago. 

He steered clear of Petey’s ass, because he was asked to, but he hoped some day he would get the chance to touch. To _see_. Instead he slid his hands up Petey’s back and into the short-buzzed hairs at the base of his skull, egging Petey on and drawing him impossibly closer. He grunted softly like he didn’t even know he was doing it, pretty much sub-vocal, and Brock wanted him to make that sound again.

Petey bit at Brock’s lips, the cutting edge of his teeth dragging against them, and the harsh pleasure of it startled a moan from Brock. He opened his mouth, trying to press his tongue into Petey’s, but got pushed back with Petey’s own. 

When they broke for air, Brock’s head was spinning, either from the lack of oxygen or because all of his blood was in his dick, he wasn’t sure. 

In the dim light of the bedside lamp, Petey looked really fucking good. Brock was, like, _into_ his whole thing. The experimental beard selfies from spring were almost as devastating as the number of times Petey answered his facetime at the end of a workout session or right before bed, shirtless. Maybe Brock had intentionally planned his calls for those times of day, but he could hardly be blamed. Petey got hotter every _goddamned day_ and Brock wanted to save it in his memory by fucking chiseling it into his brain. 

At the moment, his face was flushed just the slightest amount, a delicate pink on his cheeks and chin and forehead. He’d lost his brief-summer tan already, having faded back to total paleness in the rainy Vancouver afternoons before camp started. He wasn’t really breathing hard, or being particularly demonstrative with his desire, but Brock read him like a treasure map. There was tension in his brow, but not his neck and shoulders. His eyes were hooded, and he kept looking between Brock’s mouth and his chest. 

“Like what you see?” Brock asked, flexing because he needed to break the silence or he was going to explode. 

The corner of Petey’s mouth lifted into a smirk, and Brock felt himself blush up into his hairline. “You’re alright,” Petey said. He shifted on top of Brock and their skin, practically glued together, tugged painfully apart. “Are you nervous?” 

If it was anyone else, Brock might try to affect some bravado. Then again, he wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else, and he trusted Petey. So he admitted, “Yeah, kinda.” 

Petey just nodded, and settled back in, his legs straddling Brock’s hips. He felt the hard line of Petey’s dick, and wondered why he didn’t really notice before. It was probably like that thing with the frog and the boiling pot of water—but now Petey’s cock was the star of the show. Petey kissed him again, mouth warm and inviting and so, so dangerous. 

Brock wrapped his arms around Petey’s back and held him, stroked up his spine and behind his ears until Petey started making sounds again. Petey rocked his hips into Brock’s like waves on a pond, just subtle little movements, but Brock was pretty wrecked about it. Petey _wanted_ him.

They kissed, and Petey got increasingly distracted grinding against him, lips sometimes going slack altogether. Brock thought it might be showtime. Petey was all up in his personal space in a way he really never was unless they’d just scored a goal, but Brock was still nervous. 

When Petey’s mouth broke away from his again, he asked, “Now?” 

Petey looked at him, all seriousness, and nodded. 

Petey got off the bed while Brock spread his legs open, and Petey rummaged around for a moment before coming back. He wanted to look at Petey while this happened, to anchor him, but what if he, like— _cried_ or something? He wasn’t totally sure he wouldn’t fart, either, and he’d rather not be looking in Petey’s eyes if that happened. But then Petey was climbing back onto the bed. He patted Brock’s knee in a comforting way.

It was fucking weird right away. He had his feet flat on the bed, knees up, and Petey was _looking_ at his butt. Petey was gonna touch him there, and not like a friendly nice-job-ass-slap. The whole thing was silly, actually, and a giggle burst out of him before he could rein it in. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s not the biggest ass I’ve seen, honestly,” Petey said, which made Brock giggle again. 

“Will it work for you though? Can it get the job done?” 

He could hear the smile in Petey’s voice, though his face remained still, considering the question. “Yeah, I think so.”

There was the click of a cap opening, and then Petey was squirting the lube into his palm. He slicked his fingers and then slid them between Brock’s cheeks.

It wasn’t as cold as he thought it’d be, but definitely still strange. Petey rubbed the slippery pads of his fingers over Brock’s asshole, kind of playing around down there. It didn’t feel good or bad, yet. Just kind of wet. Brock wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he still wanted to try for Petey. This was nothing so far, and he could keep going.

Then Petey pushed his finger in.

Or, he _tried_ to, but nothing really happened. 

“You’re too tight,” said Petey. “Relax, okay?”

Brock huffed another laugh, embarrassed this time. He wasn’t clenching on purpose. “You try it, buddy,” he said. “I’ve got this hot, smug motherfucker in my bed, and he’s trying to stick his freaky long alien fingers up my butt. Excuse me for not opening right up.” He shifted on the bed, like maybe the angle was the problem.

“Well, wait until it’s my freaky long alien _dick_ in there.”

“Ha ha,” Brock said more than actually laughed, and Petey pulled his hand away to lean down and kiss Brock again.

Yeah. _Yeah_. He could probably kiss Petey all day. He hoped he’d be allowed to do it some more after tonight. They could totally use all their free time between games and practices just making out. Fuck the ping-pong tables in the lounge. Fuck the Mario Kart tourney. 

He registered Petey’s fingers slipping back between his cheeks, wetter this time. 

“You have a really nice mouth,” Petey said, barely pulling away, his words like a curling smoke over Brock’s heated face.

“Uh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Petey murmured, and kissed him so slow and hot that this time when he pressed, his finger slid in. “Mmm, there you go. Just breathe.” 

Brock obeyed, but like, okay, there was a finger in his butt. Most of a finger. 

“Boes, come on.” 

He took another breath in and squirmed a bit. It didn’t hurt at all. It was just an intrusion—just kind of _there_. He breathed. Petey’s finger sunk in another inch. 

Okay—whatever. Game face. He wanted to do this because he liked Petey. He was doing fine; all systems go. He just needed more. “Do two,” he said.

Thankfully Petey didn’t ask him if he was sure, just withdrew his finger, gathered some more lube, and pressed back in with a second.

The second one— _oh_. That was something. Before, it felt almost clinical, testing the waters, but this was like Petey is trying to actually do something. Brock could feel his hole stretching to accommodate the extra finger, and it was _good_ this time. He thought for a second about how good it would be when Petey was inside him—really inside him—and suddenly he was _there_. Holy shit, this was real. 

He sighed, the tension he didn’t know he was holding in his chest melting away entirely. 

Petey moved his fingers, sliding in and out, sometimes scissoring them to stretch Brock even further. Brock was surprised at the _rightness_ of it all. Tiny sparks danced up his spine, like when somebody played with his hair or traced his cheek with the back of their hand. He let his eyes drift closed.

“How’s it feel?” Brock asked as Petey fingered him like he had all the time in the world.

Petey was silent for a moment. “Dry by comparison. And tight. It’s like I’m making a space just for me in there.”

Brock shivered. He wanted to be a nice snug space for Petey. Maybe he wasn’t _made_ for this, but Petey could rebuild him from the inside out. 

They kept at it for a while before Petey could add a third finger. 

“Oof,” Brock grunted. “That’s a stretch.” 

Petey tugged at the rim of Brock’s hole, a burning stretch, and Brock fisted his hands into the sheets on instinct, hissing through his teeth. 

He blinked his eyes open when Petey relented. Petey wasn’t looking at his face, but instead had his fucking intense gaze trained on Brock’s ass where Petey’s long fingers disappeared inside him. Petey’s face was a redder than before, and he was concentrating. He pushed his fingers _deep_ , and Brock threw his head back on the pillows. 

“Gonna try something,” Petey said, and then his other hand was wrapping around Brock’s cock, which he’d pretty much forgotten about. He wasn’t hard anymore, but he got there _fast_. Petey’s hand was warm, slick with lube, and big, and Brock was brought right back to attention. It was like a damn magic trick, pulling aching pleasure from both ends. 

“You’re a fucking wizard,” Brock moaned nonsensically. 

Petey ignored him, jacking his cock and stroking his fingers inside Brock’s hole. “I’m not sure I can do four.”

“Four fingers? No,” Brock said. “No, no, I don’t need it.” 

“I’m,” Petey said, and paused. “You’re so beautiful. I want to be inside you.” 

Brock groaned loud. _Fuck_ , Petey never talked like that. Not even as a joke like some of Brock’s friends did. “Shut the fuck up, dude,” he complained with absolutely no heat. 

“ _You_ shut up.” 

“I’m like, _dying_ over here. Put your dick in me, Petey.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, do it, c’mon.” 

Petey pulled his miracle hands away, sliding out of Brock’s ass with a soft and nasty sound, and wiped the lube on Brock’s hip. Brock breathed through his nose, uncomfortable again now that he was empty, but still hard as nails. He heard Petey rip open the condom foil, and for a second almost protested. He doubted they needed one and maybe it would be awesome to have Petey’s come deep inside Brock’s body. He’d smell like Petey for hours, like they were mated or something.

Like, his ass was already wet with lube—what’s some jizz between friends?

But then Petey was sliding the condom on over his dick—and jesus, he was kind of a grower—and adding more lube. 

_Use your slick_ , Brock wanted to beg, because he could still smell it where it was probably leaking down the backs of Petey’s thighs. 

“Ready?” Petey asked, and Brock nodded.

It took a bit for Petey to press into Brock, because he was still pretty tight, but then the head popped inside and in the next moment he had sunk smoothly all the way in. 

Petey’s cock wasn’t so thick that it was painful, but it was just the perfect length when his bony hips pressed against Brock’s ass. The crown bumped over his prostate, sending a hot bolt through him, and making his cock jump against his stomach. He made a truly embarrassing noise, but Petey’s eyes were clenched shut. A thin sheen of sweat broke out on Petey’s forehead. His heat was peaking. 

“Is that okay?” Petey asked him, voice trembling. His hips jerked, dragging his cockhead over Brock’s prostate again.

“ _Oh_ ,” Brock moaned, fucking loud as shit, probably alerting the rest of the floor. “Oh, yeah, Petey. Yeah it feels so _good_.”

“Alright.” Petey thrust again, a little harder, and normally Brock wasn’t this loud, but he moaned again. His body was lighting up, so full, and he needed. He _needed_. “Yeah?” 

Petey started a shallow rhythm. “Fuck, fuck—oh. Your fucking _cock_ , dude, shit,” Brock said, and thought, _Your beautiful fucking dick. I’m gonna be ruined forever_. 

“That good, huh?” Petey asked. Brock’s whole body shivered as Petey pushed in deep, and his cock twitched again. 

“Mm-hmm.”

“Still not enough lube. You’re really tight.” And then Petey was pulling all the way out. 

“No,” Brock whined, feeling empty, feeling wrong. 

Petey opened the lube, drizzling it directly over Brock’s hole and then putting his fingers back in.

“No, please, _Petey_.”

“Just a second,” Petey said, adding still more slick, and pushing it in. Brock sighed loudly, making sure Petey knew he was aggravated. “God,” Petey said, “you’re so needy. I’m supposed to be the one in heat.”

There was the squelching, sloppy sound of lube as Petey replaced his fingers with his cock, and sank back inside. 

“There,” said Petey, his breath coming hard like he’d just skated the length of the rink and back at full speed. “Nice and wet now.” 

He thrust at a good pace, fucking Brock steadily. His cheeks glowed in the lamplight, bright pink now as his fever rose, and the gold strands of his hair flopped charmingly over his forehead. His body was all lean muscle, a body for hockey and a body to be admired. And Brock’s heart rose in his throat, but it wasn’t _enough_ now. He was too slick—ice right after intermission. He wanted the _grind_.

“Get deeper,” he said, and Petey blinked at him before slamming in harder. “Dude, come _on_.”

“I am,” Petey huffed. 

“ _More_.” 

Petey pulled out, an easy slick slide, and shoved at Brock’s legs. “Turn over, then.” Brock scrambled to comply, going hands-and-knees until Petey pushed between his shoulders and Brock’s chest crashed into the mattress. “No, _present_.” 

Brock was so vulnerable like this, no leverage at all, but he liked it _so much_ _—_ begging to be fucked with his whole body. Then Petey drove his cock inside and the angle was amazing, deep enough to scratch an itch Brock didn’t know he had. Petey clutched at his hips and slammed inside, fucking him at a desperate pace, and—

Fuck.

Brock’s knot started to swell. The familiar, telltale tingling at the base of his spine, a direct line to his cock and balls. 

If he reached under to put a hand on himself, he’d overbalance. Petey was fucking him _fast_ now, and Brock would probably topple and pull something. They had a game tomorrow. Though Petey could—

“Petey, buddy,” Brock tried, but Petey must have thought he was asking for more, and just thrust harder in response. His grip on Brock’s hips was almost punishing, and it was so perfect. He wanted the crescent shape of Petey’s fingernails branded into his skin forever, to claw right through him and let him find release. Pete was putting his weight into it, the crown of his cock rubbing just the right pressure on his prostate. His hips crashed into Brock’s ass.

It still wasn’t enough, and Brock was going to be held right on the edge and he wasn’t going to come. And, with a jolt of realization, he knew that Petey _was_. Petey was grunting again, chasing something.

Then, Brock was almost certain, Petey popped his own knot.

It wasn’t big—a swollen little nub that Brock felt pushing in and out of his hole, hardly bigger than a fingertip. It wouldn’t catch, of course. An omega knot was a rare evolutionary error, and Brock felt his whole body rejoice at how Petey _had_ one, and he had it for Brock. 

Suddenly his orgasm was secondary. He just wanted to please Petey, to make him feel good, so he gasped, “Give it to me. I want it, Petey. Knot me, baby.” 

And Petey cried out, an ugly, wild, desperate sound, and came. He pushed deep, dropping over Brock’s back, and shuddered through his orgasm. Brock’s eyes pricked with tears—Petey was _coming inside him_. Petey’s mouth kept sliding against his back, and there was the slight edge of teeth. He wanted to bite Brock, maybe. Stake a mating claim. Brock was _aflame_ with the thought. 

Brock lost track of the time, but eventually Petey seemed to return to his senses, and pulled out. The sheets were soaked with sweat, most of it probably Petey’s. 

Petey climbed off, stumbling along the way, and Brock tilted onto his side. He watched Petey tie off the condom from underneath Brock’s messy curtain of hair. 

Brock did his best not to whine or complain. Petey looked the clearest he’d been in hours, bright-eyed and satiated for the time-being. This wasn’t about Brock, after all. Mostly Brock just wanted Petey to kiss him and be the big spoon, but he also still hadn’t come. His cock pulsed urgently between his legs. He needed to fuck into something—at least a hand—but he was to embarrassed to jerk himself off when Petey’s cock was fully soft now. 

“You did really well,” Petey said, “you know, for a rookie.” He flashed Brock a rare grin, and then pushed Brock’s leg out to the side, spreading him open again and looking right at his cock. 

It was probably purpling in frustration, and Brock knew his knot must be huge. 

Petey sat on the bed, considering for a second. Brock knew his face couldn’t get any redder, but it certainly felt like it under Petey’s gaze. 

“I have a secret,” Petey said after a while. “You can’t tell anyone, though.”

His expression was playful, so Brock almost said, _What, like the fact you’re an omega and you have a knot?_ _The fact that you fucked me so good I don’t know if I ever want it the other way again?_

“It’s better if I show you.”

Then Petey bent down and rocked Brock’s world for what must have been the tenth time that night, and he opened his mouth and sucked down Brock’s dick. His lips almost reached the knot, before he pulled back up, all wet suction and his tongue dragging up the underside. Brock was fucking _dying_ , and Petey just kept going, bobbing his head down deep like he was some kind of porn star. 

Like, god _damn_.

Brock thought he was close to coming again when Petey pulled off, and it was kind of a relief. 

“That’s not the secret,” said Petey, voice raspy and deep. He pushed Brock around and wriggled underneath Brock so that his legs were over Petey’s shoulders, and Petey’s head was right between Brock’s thighs. “Come when you need to, alright? You can let go whenever.” 

Petey sucked Brock back into his mouth, but he didn’t stop. Brock’s cock slid down, down the back of Petey’s tongue and into the back of his throat, until Brock was—

Brock was knotting Petey’s mouth.

He moaned and his eyes rolled back in his head, and Petey swallowed around his crown, and it was so _filthy_ and unexpected. Brock came, pleasure rushing over him like a tidal wave of fire. He might have screamed or yelled, but all he heard was a ringing in his ears as he released into Petey’s mouth. 

Brock’s knot took a fairly long time to go down, and while come kept pulsing out of him and down Petey’s throat, Petey’s eyes watered and he breathed shallowly through his nose. Brock stroked his hands over Petey’s stretched jaw and the sweaty mess of his hair, and said truly embarrassing shit about how beautiful and special and _best ever_ Petey was. 

Eventually he could pull out, and Petey coughed as he did.

“Holy _shit_ , dude, what a secret,” Brock said. 

Petey winked at him, and wiped his wet, red mouth, chest heaving as he drew in full breaths for the first time in minutes. 

“Are you okay, though?” Brock was pretty sure that people didn’t actually take knots in their mouths unless they were being paid a lot of money for it, and also had a few teeth removed. You learn something earth-shattering about your teammates every day, he supposed. 

“I’m good,” Petey said. “That’s only a special treat, though. Taking a dick for the first time, or winning the S—”

Brock slapped a hand over Petey’s mouth. “ _Don’t_ say it.”

Petey pushed Brock’s hand away. “Winning the lottery.” He smirked, and pressed a kiss to Brock’s mouth. 

Although Brock was absolutely gassed, Petey seemed to be fresh as a fucking daisy. He yanked the cover sheet from underneath Brock and tidied the room a little while Brock lay there like a dead starfish. He hoped that this wasn’t just desperate bro-fucking because after maybe a solid week’s recovery, he’d like to do it again.

Petey dropped a Gatorade from the mini fridge on the bed next to Brock, and slapped his hip. “Hey,” he said, “my heat isn’t over yet. Gotta put in the full sixty.” And Brock groaned.


End file.
